


Quick Draw

by Morgana



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-25
Updated: 2013-05-25
Packaged: 2017-12-12 11:24:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/811043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgana/pseuds/Morgana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam knows just how to get his brother going</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quick Draw

The jingle of spurs on the stairs sent a shiver creeping up Dean's spine. Had the Phoenix somehow come back to life and managed to come after him? His hand twitched, longing for the Colt, but it was a hundred years and 500 miles away. He'd just have to make do with his pistol, and hope that getting shot stung enough to give him time to go for the nearest iron rod.  
  
But when he turned around, it wasn't the Phoenix on the stairs. It was - Jesus Christ, it was Sam, but this wasn't a version of Sam he'd ever seen before. He stared at his brother, taking it all in - the long legs wrapped in close-fitting blue jeans, the leather belt and shining buckle that held Dean's attention for way longer than they should, the crisp red button-up shirt and black leather vest that was open over it, the boots that peeked out from under the jeans, and that hat. Holy fuck, the hat. It was so much better than the lame-ass one he'd gotten Sam - wide-brimmed and black, this was a real fucking  _cowboy hat_.  
  
As Dean gaped at him, open-mouthed and awestruck, Sam raised one hand and curled it around the brim, dipping his head just a little. "Howdy," he drawled, and Dean's knees went weak at the sound of the word slipping like molasses out of his brother's mouth. "I was hopin' you'd have a spare place to sleep. Been out on the trail for a while and I'd sure appreciate a soft bed and somethin' good to eat."  
  
"I - uh, yeah," Dean gasped, his brain working overtime in an effort to form actual words. "Yeah, there's a bed down here and - Jesus, Sam, does Bobby know what you're doing?"  
  
Sam grinned at him. "He went out for groceries about half an hour ago." He shifted his weight, hooking his thumbs into his belt, tugging both it and his jeans down just a little. "So... down here, you said?"  
  
"Uh-huh." He knew he sounded like an idiot, but how the hell was he supposed to say anything coherent when Sam was standing on the stairs looking like a wet dream brought to life? Licking his lips, Dean tried again. "But I'm not sure I'm comfortable letting a -" He racked his brain for a term that sounded right, something that fit the image of the gunfighter Sam looked like. "A drifter stay here."  
  
"Drifter, huh?" Sam's voice dipped into a lower tone, and Dean had to fight the urge to back up as he sauntered downstairs. "And what makes you think I'm a drifter?"  
  
Oh, God. This wasn't happening. He was not stupidly hard just because Sam was walking towards him looking like he'd stepped right out of a spaghetti western. Dean shook his head, trying to clear it enough to get in the game and give back a little of his own. "You, uh, your hat," he stammered.  
  
One huge hand drifted up to touch the brim, and shit, now Sam was fucking caressing the thing! "That's true," he said softly, taking another few steps until he was just inches away from Dean. "It's not white. Do you wish it was? Want a hero to come save you?"  
  
Dean shook his head, unable to really form words with Sam this close. He could only watch those long fingers glide over the hat and try not to whimper with the almost overwhelming need to have them on him instead. Thankfully, Sam seemed to understand his growing desperation, because he tilted the hat back and leaned down, breath hot on Dean's face as he whispered, "You like cowboys, don't you, big brother?"  
  
A sound that was a cross between a whine and a growl burst free, but Sam didn't get a chance to gloat about it because Dean hooked one hand around his neck and yanked him in for a kiss. He was ready to beat his brother to a bloody pulp if he tried teasing him any more, but Sam's tongue was there to meet his when he opened for it, just like Sam's hands were there to stoke the fire inside him, sliding down to cup his ass and pull him in tight. And God, he'd always loved it when Sammy took control, but having him do it like this was like every secret cowboy fantasy Dean had ever had come to life, only a thousand times better.  
  
He could hear the distant chime of Sam's spurs on the floor as his brother walked him backwards until a wall stopped their progress. And it might make him the girl he often teased Sam about being, but Dean ended up wrapping his arms around Sam's neck and whimpering into his mouth as he was treated to lush, wet kisses that left him squirming against his brother, seeking just a little bit more friction. Sam moaned, wedging a hand between them to cover the hard swell of Dean's dick, and that was it.  
  
Dean wrenched his mouth away from Sam's, gasping for air as he came hard enough to make his knees weak. Sam held him up through it, but when he drifted back to earth, he was more than a little uncomfortably aware of his brother's smirk. And the mess he'd made in his pants. Dean shifted in an attempt to get away from the one and warned the other, "Don't even."   
  
Sam's smirk gave way to a full-blown grin. "What?"  
  
"Whatever's making you look like the cat that got the canary, that's what."  
  
His brother's face was the picture of innocence. "I wasn't gonna say anything, but now that you mention it -"  
  
Dean glared at him. "Sam..." he warned, but as always, Sam plowed right ahead.  
  
"There are probably some times it's better not to be such a quick draw." He could barely get the last few words out before he dissolved in a fit of loud guffaws that made Dean's ears turn red while he wished for a hole he could crawl into.  
  
But when it came down to it, he was a Winchester, and Winchesters didn't take shit without giving it right back. And Sam's laughter gave way to a groan as Dean sank to his knees in front of him and reached for his fly, determined to prove that he wasn't the only one who could be quick on the draw.


End file.
